


Breakfast at Hannibal's

by until_the_earth_is_free



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, Disassociation, Fluff, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Unbeta'd, Will wears Hannibal's clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 06:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/until_the_earth_is_free/pseuds/until_the_earth_is_free
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will wakes up in a forest and has no clue where he is.  Hannibal finds him, brings him home and feeds him breakfast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Will woke up lying down in the middle of an unfamiliar forest with a bitter taste on his tongue. He jumped up, only vaguely aware of the frozen mud caked to his bare feet. It was dark and cold; it must have been the middle of the night and he had no idea where he was. 

Will’s lungs were constricting. His chest was tightening. His ears were filled with the sound of his blood surging around his brain at an alarming speed. Shuddering, he pat his pockets for his phone but he was only wearing his boxers and his pyjama shirt and with the realisation that he had no way of being found, or even finding himself, he was flung into a wild, feverish panic.

Confusion and bewilderment flooded his mind as anxiety grabbed his shoulders and pulled him out of reality and into a state of fleeting consciousness and white noise. He flailed blindly through his disorientation until his mind grabbed onto the coping technique Dr Lecter had taught him a few weeks ago.

“My name is Will Graham. It is one in the morning and I am in a forest near Wolf Trap, Virginia,” he said, the clarity and familiarity of hearing his own voice stabilising the spasms that had temporarily taken hostage of his back. Although he had no idea if the latter facts were true, it relaxed him to say them and he started to walk through the forest with a forced confidence as if he were heading in the direction of home.

After around ten minutes of walking, Will’s disorientation took over as he still could not recognise where he was or even what had happened before he woke up. The last thing he could remember was entering Dr Lecter’s office... That had been at around 4pm earlier that day. What then? Will squinted as he tried to recall his appointment with his psychiatrist and, when he failed to do so, aggressively rubbed his face with his hands and concentrated again on continuing his walk on the now painfully cold dead leaves the forest floor.

“Will?” a voice called out from behind. Will’s eyes widened as he spun around to face a figure holding a bright torch light that shone directly into his eyes and made phosphenes dance across his vision like spots of blood.

“Who’s there?” he croaked but by the time he finished his question, the silhouette had loomed forward and morphed into the familiar form of his psychiatrist.

“It’s Hannibal. Are you alright?” Dr Lecter said, stepping closer. Will opened his mouth but, before he could answer, a wave of nausea and exhaustion overcame him and the colourful lights took over before fading into black.

 

~o~

It was the first time in months that Will could not remember his dreams when he woke up. He was so stunned by this fact that, for a few seconds, he did not actually realise he was not in his own bedroom. The walls were made of a rich, dark wood that Will could not identify and the heavy wool blanket around him provided a constant pressure that he appreciated.

The door swung easily open as Will watched Dr Lecter stride into the room with a tall white mug in one hand and a newspaper tucked under his other arm. After offering Will the mug, he perched himself at the foot of the bed like an oversized bird in a three-piece suit.

“How are you, Will? Did you sleep well?” he asked.

“Huh? Oh yes, fine, very well, thank you,” Will mumbled, taking a sip of the hot, sharply bitter coffee.

“And the pyjamas? Are they comfortable for you?”

“What?” Will glanced down and noticed suddenly that he was wearing a set of dark grey flannel pyjamas at least two sizes too big and then flushed violently as he also realised he was no longer covered in mud and smelled faintly of Dr Lecter’s musky cologne. When he could bear to look at the doctor’s face again, he saw an amused half-smile at Will’s expression, which jabbed the patient with another pang of embarrassment.

Lifting himself lithely from the bed, the psychiatrist said, “Breakfast will be in half an hour. The bathroom is at the end of the hall. I have left some more clothes for you on the towel rack.”

~o~

Hannibal was whisking the hollandaise sauce in his kitchen when he heard the shower turn on upstairs. His plan was to serve a simple eggs benedict with smoked haddock and dill for breakfast, no heavy meats for his patient just yet. He hummed while he whisked, expertly avoiding any splatter on his plaid waistcoat. When he heard the shower turn off, he deftly cracked two eggs into the boiling water on the stove, which he estimated would be lightly poached by the time Will had found the kitchen.

With the satisfyingly punctual click of the kitchen door being opened, Hannibal spooned each steaming egg onto the haddock pieces that he had artistically placed on english muffins. Having quickly and gracefully dribbled the deep yellow sauce onto the two dishes, he spun around and presented his masterpieces to Will with a flourish.

Will looked more confused than impressed, however, and Hannibal proceeded to explain what he was serving his guest for breakfast and guided his friend to the small, informal table that he used when he was not entertaining large groups of people.

As Will tentatively started to eat, Hannibal noticed that Will had to roll up several inches of sleeves in order to find his hands. He suppressed a smile at the frank gesture towards a linen dress shirt.

But the smile was quick to fade when he remembered what he had seen under that shirt as he was washing Will and he started to eat his food with sobriety.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal drives Will home while Will makes a startling discovery about his no-longer-professional feelings about his psychiatrist.

“How much of last night do you remember, Will?” Hannibal asked, making a careful incision into his egg, allowing the warm, yellow contents to spill out onto his plate.

“Um, I must have lost time again because it was late and I was in a forest and I got lost and then I saw you and I...” Will trailed off, his words having become tangled in the mess of his thoughts. His brow furrowed, he asked, “what were you doing in the woods last night?”

Hannibal put down his fork and paused before speaking. “I was looking for you. After our session, I became quite concerned with your state of consciousness and, after I did not find you at your house, I tried to find you elsewhere. It’s quite lucky that I did, as it was almost 40 degrees last night.”

Will eyed the doctor curiously before turning back to his plate, attempting in a quiet desperation to cut a slice off his muffin without the entire breakfast sliding around in the sauce.

Hannibal hated lying to Will, not only because he knew the empath could see right through it, but because he knew dishonesty would make it harder for his friend to want to open up. On the other hand, he thought Will would probably react quite strongly to the news that his friend had been on his way to ambush a woman on her daily commute home from a bar and carve her remains into a filet escalope.

It had been a while since Hannibal had hunted and he was developing a strong craving for the kill and the consequent meal.

“Would you like a ride home?” he asked, briskly, trying not to have those particular feelings for Will, whom, he had decided immediately upon meeting him, he definitely preferred alive.

~o~

“I’m sorry.” Will’s voice cracked slightly as he stared down at his clasped hands in his lap while Hannibal smoothly reversed out of his driveway. His car was a spacious Bentley with a crisp smell of chemicals as though it was thoroughly cleaned on a regular basis.

“Nonsense, Will,” said Hannibal, elegantly switching gear before looking over to his friend. “I’m sorry for not inviting you earlier and saving you the inconvenience.”

Will flushed, intimidated by the doctor’s politeness, and silently cursed his embarrassment. He hated not wearing his glasses and having that small window that separated him from Dr Lecter’s suavity and aggressively attractive sophistication. 

What?

~o~

When they had arrived in his driveway, Hannibal noticed that Will had broken out in a sweat. He desperately avoided looking in his psychiatrist’s direction and was making a bewildering gesture with his hands that looked to Hannibal as though he were applying hand sanitiser.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, gently placing a hand on Will’s shoulder to ground him.

Will’s eyes suddenly widened, gleaming, and with an audible intake of breath he shuddered violently, causing Hannibal to withdraw his hand quickly. Will turned away and fumbled with the door handle for a few seconds before successfully opening it and running, shaking, into his house.

Hannibal watched him close the front door before he let himself expel a long, low groan of frustration at his own psychiatric inadequacy and his spectacular failure to help Will Graham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter (sorry it's a bit short). More will be coming soon and please leave comments as they are extremely helpful in my motivational process.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will angsts about his feelings of inadequacy. Basically.

Will leaned against his front door and closed his eyes. Breathing deeply and calmly, he felt himself slide to the floor and one of his dogs, Winston, lick his hand. Scratching the dog behind the ears was a therapeutically repetitive task and Will let himself do so for several minutes to avoid thinking about what had happened.

Dr. Lecter had touched his shoulder. It wouldn’t have been so bad, had Will not felt a small jolt of excitement in his gut from the gesture. It was such an immature feeling; he wasn’t a teenager anymore and he was going to adamantly refuse to acknowledge any romantic attraction to Dr Lecter. Even if the man had seen him without...

Will wondered how screwed up someone would have to be to sleep with their psychiatrist.

Will’s eyes opened suddenly and his hand on Winston’s head halted mid-stroke. This was frankly ridiculous. Dr Lecter was a sophisticated, intelligent gentleman with an impeccable wardrobe and who could ask out anyone he fancied, which definitely did not include scruffy, inarticulate mental patients.

Furthermore, Will remembered with a horrified cringe, he had seen Will’s scars. He must have deduced how unwanted Will had been before. Why would Dr Lecter pick at someone’s spoiled leftovers when he could choose the finest, freshest cuts of meat?

~o~

Hannibal sat in his office, twisting his silver fountain pen in one hand and holding his phone in the other. It had been ringing for almost a minute; apparently Will Graham didn’t have an answering machine. He was considering hanging up and trying again later when he heard a clattering noise like a phone being hastily grabbed from its cradle and a familiar voice.

“Hello?” Will asked, trying to conceal the fact that he was out of breath, having just come back from giving the dogs the long walk they had missed the day before.

“Good evening, Will. It’s Hannibal. I was wondering if you wanted to visit me in my office tomorrow to discuss a few things.”

Will cleared his throat nervously.

“Hi, doctor. Uh, yeah, sure, I’ll come. There isn’t a case at the moment so I can do any time after lunch.”

“How about two?”

“Sure, yes, that’s fine.” Will winced at the painfully garbled nature of his sentences compared to Dr Lecter’s effortless eloquence.

“I shall see you then.”

Will waited until he heard a definite, metallic click to put down the phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update's a bit short! But I've been leaving myself room for the next chapter, which will be chock-full of embarrassed Will and uber-attractive Hannibal. Oh and comments are always very lovely to receive, bonus points if you give me advice on how to improve my writing!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal have a session.

It took Will over a minute to summon the courage to knock on Dr Lecter’s office door and only a second for the psychiatrist to open it.

Hannibal had been extremely tense the whole morning in anticipation of this session. Like picking a lock, persuading Will to talk had always required patience, skill and a slight push. The doctor’s stress may also have been caused by his... recent period of ‘fasting’.

“Do come in.”

Will nodded his head, curls bouncing against his forehead, as he firmly stared at the photographs on the wall and walked into the office. Still staring anywhere but at the man in front of him, he started, “Dr Lecter-”

“Please, Will. Call me Hannibal. I am not your psychiatrist; I am your friend and it would be refreshing to be addressed as such.”

Friend. Will found a distant relative of a smile jerk its way onto his lips for a moment at the thought of a real friendship. The smile went as suddenly as it came when he broke his promise to himself about not letting himself think about Dr Lect- no Hannibal - being more than just a friend.

“Hannibal,” he said, quickly, trying to ignore the obvious mortification burning his cheeks. “I’m really sorry I left before thanking you properly. It was rude of me and you’ve been so gracious and...”

But Will was unable to finish his sentence because Hannibal was touching his arm.

Hannibal had Will’s forearm in a strong but not quite tight grip and was watching Will’s face closely so he could observe the psychological effects in a controlled environment that wasn’t the front seat of his car.

There it was. Pupils dilated in panic, faster breathing, muscle spasms and a quickened heartbeat. Hannibal considered the possibilities carefully for this intensity of a reaction, still holding onto Will’s arm.

“Please let go,” Will gasped, his blue eyes brimming with desperation. When Hannibal complied, he took two steps back and rubbed the length of the forearm fiercely with his other hand, as if trying to remove all traces of the touch.

“Who was he?” Hannibal asked.

“What?”

“A brother, a friend, a lover?” Hannibal inquired, at each guess taking a small step forward.

Will’s face paled into a wan, sickly hue as he fully comprehended the question Hannibal was asking him but he didn’t move away from the psychiatrist’s advance.

His voice cracking, he whispered.

“My college roommate.”

Hannibal froze and inhaled slowly. Will was staring at the doctor’s Italian suede shoes, unable to force his gaze any higher. He was shaking violently, almost uncontrollably so, and clutching his sides with his arms crossed, but the last thing he wanted was for Hannibal to touch him again. There was an uncomfortable silence for a minute before he realised the other man was waiting for him to speak again.

“It wasn’t his fault,” he muttered at the ground because he knew exactly what the psychiatrist would be thinking right now.

“Will,” Hannibal started, his tone unusually soft and imploring.

“It wasn’t his fault!” Will exclaimed, and he made himself look Hannibal right in the eyes to make sure the psychiatrist understood that.

Will’s eyes were gleaming with this wild, fierce insistence that the doctor knew wouldn’t be easy to argue against.

Instead, he asked, “why did he do it then?”

Will sighed a bitter, raspy breath and started to pace around the office, like walking would shake off this horrible, sticky feeling of reliving the memories. He didn’t really want to tell Hannibal anything; Will was a more of a “sweep-it-under-the-rug” kind of guy but having a psychiatrist as a friend had certain disadvantages that he couldn’t avoid.

“He had a series of personality disorders,” Will began, pretending he was just profiling another serial killer for Jack while Hannibal leaned against his mahogany desk and listened. “When things got too quiet, he would throw things, mess up the room to try and fill the space with noise. When things got too calm, he would...” Will stopped to rub the scars on his lower back with his right hand. “It was the only way he could drown out his terrible loneliness. He had to destroy his environment so his mind wouldn’t feel broken in comparison. I felt bad for him.”

There were a hundred things Hannibal could have said: hackneyed, obvious psychiatric catchphrases that Will would scoff at and useless, confused condolences that are often offered by ignorant acquaintances. But looking at the poor man, who was now sitting on the floor and cradling his head in his hands, mere words were not action enough.

“Are you free Friday night for dinner?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your comments from last time! Do feel free to indulge again. I'm sorry it's taken so long with this chapter but I've been away and then had a horrible case of the 'flu.
> 
> Also, I've never picked a lock in my life past Fall Out 3 so if that simile is totally inaccurate, I apologise.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal has Will over for dinner.

When Hannibal opened his front door that Friday, Will noticed that the skin around the doctor’s eyes was slightly darker than usual, like he hadn’t slept more than three hours last night. However, there was an animated glow around the man, a sort of perkiness that emanated through his unusually broad smile and the way he bounced on his heels while leading Will to the dining room.

Part of Hannibal’s good mood was due to the amusing sight of Will Graham’s unfortunate attempt at ironing his plaid shirt that had just resulted in reinforcing the crumples. The poor profiler had tried to dress up for this dinner by wearing a tweed jacket and patchily polished boots but he felt as inadequate as a half-plucked chicken in comparison with Dr Hannibal Lecter in his sleek, refined suit.

The long dinner table was adorned with a purple silk tablecloth that ran precisely down the middle and there were two forks and two knives next to each plate. Will noticed with a half-smile that Hannibal had relinquished his spot at the head of the table to sit across from his only guest.

The psychiatrist pulled out a chair for Will to sit down and briskly strode out to the kitchen to fetch the first course, which he had been keeping warm in the oven.

“I present to you pan-fried sweetbreads with a small rocket salad, doused with a light vinaigrette of balsamic vinegar and honey. Bon-appetit.”

Will stared down at the golden-brown objects on his plate and was surprised at how easily the soft meat was split by his knife. He was further astonished by the oily yet delicate taste and his wonder must have been mirrored on his face because he heard a deep chuckle from across the table.

Leaning over his plate so Hannibal couldn’t see his stupid grin, Will ate the rest of his appetiser without eye contact.

The next course was slices of traditional roast pork belly resting on a bed of creamy mashed potatoes and diced red cabbage. After placing the dish down in front of Will, the host gently poured a pool of thick, chestnut-brown gravy that soaked easily into the soft potatoes. Will tried to keep himself focussed on the food in front of him but found his eyes wandering to the doctor’s long, slender fingers that were clasped around the gravy boat.

When Hannibal had taken a seat and had picked up his cutlery, Will found himself asking, “did you read tattlecrime this morning?”

The psychiatrist put down his silverware and looked at the man across from him.

“No,” he lied, because he wanted to hear the story from Will.

“Another body was found in a Baltimore-suburb with several of his organs removed. Freddie Lounds reported that it wasn’t the work of the Chesapeake Ripper because this one wasn’t a member of a sounder.”

“What do you think, Will?” Hannibal inquired, masking his intense curiosity by taking a bite out of his food.

“It has the same flair, the same elegance as a Ripper victim case.”

There was a moment of silence as Will sampled the main course.

“Anything else?”

“I knew the victim, Hannibal. He was my freshman roommate at university. I...” He looked desperately around the room, as though the words he was searching for were in the space.

“I hate to say it but I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we had that conversation only the day before he was killed.”

Lightly impressed, Hannibal stared at his guest, head cocked to one side and one eyebrow raised, before speaking.

“Finish your dinner, Will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might have noticed that I was extremely hungry when I wrote this. I think I'm only going to write one more chapter to clear this all up but I think a lot of business was resolved in this one if you know what I mean...


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sexual tension becomes resolved. Yay for fluff!

In the days and weeks that passed after that Friday evening, there seemed to be an unspoken agreement between the two men that Will would not question Hannibal on that particular murder case and Hannibal would not elaborate on his deflection of Will’s inquiry.

It pleased the doctor greatly that his friend had been so calm, only twitching one side of his mouth in an almost conspiratory smile in response to his reply. Even more satisfying was the sweet aura of awe radiating from Will, like someone was finally seeing Hannibal for all that he was.

This was what he found so intriguing about the empath, he mused during one of their sessions. Will had the ability to understand Hannibal utterly and completely and could therefore appreciate him like no one else could.

“Will?”

The profiler looked up from the book he was flicking through on and turned around to face Hannibal. He had been becoming more comfortable around the psychiatrist recently and the skittish flicker in his eyes had almost disappeared.

“What do you see when you look at me?”

It was a strange question, delivered with just the amount of confidence to make Will’s mouth go dry. Blinking rapidly and clearing his throat to cover up the flush in his cheeks, he allowed himself a brief scan of the doctor’s eyes and facial expression.

Pride. A serenity that was only produced from extraordinary self-confidence. Intelligence, the rational kind. Oh dear God, was that-? No, it couldn’t be...

But before Will could decipher whether he was actually sensing lust in the other man’s mind or if it was just a projection from his own erratic psyche, he found himself quite shocked and unable to move because at that moment a hallucination overwhelmed his senses, or at least it must have been a hallucination because there was no way Hannibal’s lips were on his and it was frankly ridiculous that they would taste so good, like dark cherries and fine wine.

Will broke apart from the kiss that, despite its imaginariness had been the most incredible experience, and called out for the doctor, refusing to look in the direction of this unreal figure who was leading him into a most cruel fantasy of false hope.

“Will?” inquired the man standing in front of him. “I’m sorry if I was being too presumptuous with your feelings but I-”

“Is this real?” interrupted Will.

“Yes,” said Hannibal simply. He opened his mouth as if to say something else but was prevented from doing so by Will’s lips and the two of them shared another kiss, deeper and longer and _real_.

It struck Hannibal that the other man had just interrupted him twice consecutively and he might have been irritated if it had been anyone else apart from Will.

Well. He could be tolerant of some rudenesses if it resulted in being kissed like _that_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end. I actually finished my first ever fic! I hope y'all enjoyed it and please do leave comments.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be fluff but it's taking an unexpected turn. Sorry about that!


End file.
